


Never Do That Again

by Saraste



Series: 30 Days OTP Challenge [23]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, PZA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn comes back from a supply-run a little worse for the wear, Daryl can't really put his anxiety and fear into words properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Do That Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #23 arguing for the 30 day otp challenge.

”Don't you...” Daryl says heatedly, head surging down to claim Glenn's lips with his own, bruising and too hard, all intent and rash, desperate but not caring one iota, ”ever,” he breathes into the small space between their lips before his lips are on Glenn's again, ”do,” he continues, hands clutching at Glenn, gripping at his shirt desperately, like he might vanish on the spot if Daryl lets go, ”that again.”

 

Then he's just breathing against Glenn, lips hovering, hands shaking where he holds Glenn tight, too tight, trembling an unable to let go. Their bodies are pressed together and Daryl's clothes will need a clean up too but he doesn't care. Because he _needs_ to hold Glenn close. Just has to.

 

”I'm not weak,” Glenn says, but there's no heat in his voice, if anything, there's petulance in it, like he's a kid, like Daryl had inferred that he was. But he's not. He's a man, trying his best to not get killed in a world where death brings no final peace, where death is now brutal more often than not and then your body goes on on it's own, mindless, trying to kill even those who you once loved. A world where death isn't a finality, but a brutal painful business and then you need to be put down when you rise, or your body broken, your brain destroyed, before there's any chance.

 

“I'm alive. Didn't get bit.” He punches the words against Daryl's back with fists that lack the proper drive behind them for them to hurt proper, yet they feel like knives, like accusation even when they're not.

 

“Fuck,” Daryl says, he kinda wants to hurt Glenn to make him see, wants to tell how much he'd worried, but the words get stuck in his throat, refusing to get out, refusing to get said. He's never been good with words, especially when frightened. You'd think this world would have burned fright from him long time since. Yet it's there, always there, whenever Glenn's in danger.

 

“Maybe later,” Glenn says in a dead-pan voice, devoid of anything, which makes Daryl know that he's angry now. Knows that it's a coping mechanism, helps Glenn deal with his close brush with death, which wouldn't even have happened had Daryl been there.

 

_Fuck._

 

There _will_ be fucking later, sweet and tender, which they only do after a brush with ever-present death, with Daryl holding onto Glenn like he'd break, taking him into his body eagerly, reveling in it, in feeling him deep and alive, in him. There will be kissing and caressing and words, when they're sated Daryl will be able to let the words out, let out his anxieties, how much Glenn scared him. Even when Glenn knows, can tell from the way Daryl holds him like he's gonna be gone in a heartbeat if he lets go, but even if he knows the words need to be said.

 

Because words are one of the things that separate them from the walkers. He words are Daryl's fears and they need an out.

 

But not yet. Not now when Glenn's still inside grimy clothes, looking like death warmed once over and exhausted on his feet, in need of cleaning up and food and sleep.

 

“Don' wanna argue,” Daryl says suddenly bone-tired himself. It's a wonder that he can show that, that he's so familiar with the people they're with, 'cos he never did before. But before, things were a lot more complicated, sometimes. Now, it often seems like it's all way too easy way too often. It's all too easy to wind his arms around Glenn, haul him to his side and kiss him once more. “Let's get you cleaned up, now,” he murmurs when they come apart.

 

Glenn sighs, long and deep, like he can't believe what Daryl's saying. But his faux-anger evaporates with that sigh, pulled out of him and gone, just like that. “Yeah,” he says, and lets Daryl lead him to get cleaned up.

 


End file.
